No use in a mute howl
No point in an inaudible ripping
if in my yelling there was no aim,
only a faked, well concealed pain.
An unintentional moaning in an empty space
that doesn't echo nor reverberate.
A hidden pain self-disguised
of affected happiness.
True, seeming real joy.
All broken in a tear shedding
smashed in a genuine moment
an acute, deafening wailing
torn apart to be reassembled.
For now the howl is back.
Louder than ever.
Heartbreaking like never before.
Wiping out like a remorseless tide.
And when nothing but the ashes
are left, I'll find myself
in a clear crystal dessert
surrounded by nothing but me,
only this unknown, deprived self.
Then, again, the wailing.
But I'll face it up to defy it
and in this mirror I'll see
the will of my sin.
I'll understand who I am.
